


Not Quite To Plan

by JBankai89



Series: Lover's Walk [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter and Bickering, Bottom Sirius, Coming Out, Cross-Generation Relationship, Established Relationship, Godcest, Inferiority Complex, Judgmental Character, Light Bondage, M/M, Romance, Top Harry, life decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: Sirius had always had an image in mind for how he intended to tell his family and friends about his relationship with Harry. Unfortunately, Remus's impromptu visit in the early hours of a random Sunday morning drags the truth out sooner than he or Harry had anticipated, and neither are quite prepared for the forms that their reactions will take.





	Not Quite To Plan

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The sequel to Keep The Romance Outside :) If you have not read KTRO, this can be read as a standalone without much issue, though there are a few references here and there that will be clearer if you've read that first. I have one last part to this planned, but I have no idea when it'll be out. Please enjoy! :)

Not Quite To Plan

 

Sirius had not planned it this way.

When he'd envisioned telling the world—or his family, at least—that he was involved with a wonderful man who also happened to be his godson, what he thought would happen turned out to be _very_ different from what actually transpired.

For one, he would be awake, and for two, he would have had clothes on.

When Remus—dear Remus with his keen eyes, endearing bookishness, and proclivity for danger—actually _did_ find out, Sirius was not awake, nor was he clothed.

What he was, was in bed on that peaceful Sunday morning, a thin blanket draped haphazardly across his hips, and curled up with his young lover, their legs akimbo, and neither man left anything to the imagination of what they had been up to the night before.

Remus was quiet and thoughtful, as was his nature (ironic, all things considered) but that particular morning, the morning after the full moon, no less, everything that Remus _was_ had been replaced with a different emotion—blind panic.

 

And that was how Remus burst into the master bedroom, crying Sirius's name, and rousing both men in an instant.

They shot up in bed, and Remus skidded to a halt in the frame of their bedroom door as his eyes went almost comically wide.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Oh, damn it,” was Harry's only response.

Remus's brow quivered, caught somewhere between shock and a scowl, and his eyes flitted to Sirius. Sirius noted that Remus was wearing clothes that did not belong to him, he was pale and swaying slightly from exhaustion, and there was a long scratch high on his cheek. Considering the way Remus was staring at them as though he'd just witnessed a murder scene however, Sirius found it a little difficult to feel particularly sympathetic towards him at the moment.

“Let me guess,” Sirius said dryly, albeit somewhat groggily, “ _Sirius Orion Black, by all the saints what have you done, you've defiled your godson and ruined your relationship with him, blah, blah, blah, how could you, et cetera, et cetera, you wait until Molly finds out she is going to murder you, and so on and so on..._ am I warm?”

“Put some trousers on and come to the drawing room,” he said, his brow furrowing with annoyance, but he did not move from his spot, as though certain Sirius might further corrupt Harry if he turned his back.

In truth, he wasn't exactly _that_ far off the mark.

Harry and Sirius exchanged a look, and grinned at each other. Sirius's was closer to a smirk, but the look _did_ elicit another reaction from Remus, who rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling as the pair slid from the tangle of blankets and meandered over to the wardrobe at a leisurely pace, completely unconcerned that Remus Lupin was watching the entire scene.

They dressed in relative silence, and out of the corner of his eye Sirius could see Remus's look of abject horror become more pronounced when he saw just how jumbled together their clothes were in the wardrobe. It was a small sign that this had been going on for quite some time (fourteen months, in fact) and was not a new or spur-of-the-moment thing.

This seemed to alarm him more than the fact that he had caught them in bed together, and after the two men had tugged on some clothes (Harry in jeans and a T-shirt, Sirius in pyjamas and a dressing gown) they headed down to the drawing room.

The couple walked ahead of Moony, and Sirius felt tempted to tease his last surviving friend a little more, and reached for Harry's hand. Harry swatted it away with a glare that clearly said, _don't push it._

 

The trio stopped at the door to the drawing room, and Harry huffed a small sigh.

“I'll get some breakfast going, you two feel free to debate how I'm _just a child_ and _can't possibly know what I really want_ and so on. Yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Sirius replied as he pecked Harry's lips in a kiss before the younger man could stop him, and he saw Moony out of the corner of his eye go even redder at the familiar touch. “Don't be long, lover.”

Harry rolled his eyes and strode away, not looking back once as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“You've had a bad influence on him,” Remus said, his voice shaking a little, though Sirius couldn't honestly tell whether it was disapproval, disgust, or both he was hearing in his voice. “He's starting to _sound_ like you.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, a wistful note in his voice, “great, isn't it? Took ages to get him to stop sounding like a Weasley.”

“Sirius, this is _serious_ ,” Remus said forcefully, and Sirius arched an eyebrow at him. “I mean it. He's twenty-one years old. You're in your forties. He's just starting out in life, and do I even need to mention that he's your _godson_? What the hell were you thinking?”

“It's not like we're _actually_ related, Moony,” Sirius pointed out, “and you should probably ask Harry that, rather than me, given that he's the one who made the first move.”

“It doesn't matter who _made the first move_ ,” Remus replied, his tone on the cusp of snide, “ _you_ are the older one. You are the one who's supposed to be mature and make the _right_ decisions, not let your godson seduce you!”

“In my defence, he is _very_ hard to resist,” Sirius retorted with an air of amusement, and Remus pursed his lips.

“That is _not_ funny, Padfoot. You need to break it off with him, this isn't healthy, you're taking advantage of him, Harry's never had a real family, he's starved for affection, and—”

“—and Sirius's affection is _quite_ nice, thank you,” Harry interrupted as he strolled into the drawing room bearing a platter of toast, eggs, and tea, as well as three plates. Remus scowled again, and Sirius immediately bent forward to prod the scrunched up skin between Remus's eyebrows.

“Don't scowl like that, Moony, you'll get wrinkles.”

“How is it that _you're_ so wrinkle-free?” Harry asked as he set down the platter on the table and sat next to Sirius. “You're the same age, but...”

“An enormous trust fund from a dead relative, a lover who's half my age, no children, and I'm not married to an accident-prone Metamorphmagus.”

Remus's scowl deepened.

“All right, Remus, look,” Harry said as Sirius busied himself with serving up the food, “I know it's not exactly... _correct,_ but I'm not fifteen anymore, we're both consenting adults, and we're _happy_. Why is it so wrong?”

“He was best friends with your father,” Remus said stubbornly as he crossed his arms, “that should have been enough of a deterrent. You may as well be shagging your uncle.”

“Yeah, but I'm _not_ ,” Harry emphasized, and placed a hand on Sirius's thigh. It was not a sexual move, but a protective one, one which pulled a smile to the surface of Sirius's expression, and a frown to Remus's. “That's the point, Remus. I didn't know Sirius 'til I was thirteen, and we didn't have a proper relationship until after the war was over, when I was nearly eighteen. I...” Harry trailed off, and Sirius dropped his gaze to Harry's hand on him, and watched the fabric bunch up under his fingers as he clenched his hand into a fist. “I didn't know him for a long time, not properly, and when I started figuring out who I was and what I wanted...”

Harry turned to Sirius with a bright, sunny smile. Sirius all but felt his heart melt at the expression, and wholly unconcerned that Remus was watching, he took Harry's hand and their fingers threaded together. Remus's complexion seemed to curdle at the sight.

“Sirius,” Remus tried again, “please, I _implore_ you two to see reason. This isn't right. You _know_ this isn't right. You can't do this, it's _not_ healthy.”

“Remus,” Sirius began, his tone almost grave in its seriousness. Harry's mouth quirked at the corners, clearly amused by Sirius's tone—it was quite rare for him to _actually_ speak about their relationship in such a serious matter, completely devoid of jokes or innuendo. “You are my best friend. Your opinion matters to me—it always has. You're The Dad Friend. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead by now. You were the one who talked James and I out of marrying each other for the tax benefits when Lily nearly broke it off with him, you're the one who went running to McGonagall when James and I planned to try muggle bungee jumping off the Quidditch goalposts, and you're the one who _married my cousin who is thirteen years younger than you and then had a baby with her_. So really, you're not exactly one to talk.”

Sirius moved to wrap his arms around Harry, and this time the younger man allowed it, while Sirius never broke eye contact with the werewolf. “I love Harry. I love him more than anything else in this life. On the outside, I'm sure it looks strange, and maybe even a little bit criminal, but you know what? _I don't care_. He and I are both adults, and we can make our own decisions. If you don't like it, then piss off, because neither of us plan on ending this any time soon.”

“That remains to be seen, how _adult_ you are,” Remus muttered as he crossed his arms stiffly, and continued to scowl at the pair of them.

“If we're going to discuss adult responsibility and decorum, need I point out that it was _you_ who burst into our flat unannounced, at the crack of dawn—” Sirius began, but Remus was quick to cut him off.

“That was because I had taken a new experimental version of Wolfsbane last night and I woke up round the corner in an alley, with no idea how I got there!” Remus protested hotly, “I just wanted to rest here before Apparating home when I saw you two—”

“You could have _knocked_ ,” Sirius retorted in the same tone, “look, I'm sorry for that happening to you, you know I am, but bursting in on us—”

“If I hadn't, you two would still be living in sin—”

“ _Living in Sin_ ,” Sirius sneered, “oh, that's rich, coming from you—”

“ _Fingers on lips!_ ” Harry suddenly yelled, drawing both Remus and Sirius from their argument. He was holding a finger up to his mouth in an indication for them both to be quiet, and when neither man reacted beyond falling silent, he raised his eyebrows in an obvious hint.

Smiling with amusement, Sirius obeyed, and Remus grudgingly followed suit.

“Now,” Harry said in a soft voice as he lowered his finger away from his mouth, “Remus, would you care to tell us what it is that has you so distressed about our relationship?”

“Harry,” he began as he, too, lowered his finger, but his tone was harsh and accusatory. “This is completely inappropriate. If you don't break this off—”

“What, _Hermione_?” Harry asked with something close to a sneer in his voice. Sirius's eyebrows shot up in surprise at his tone. “Are you going to go running to Mrs Weasley? Or McGonagall? What do you think they'll do? McGonagall can't give me detention over this, and we are more than capable of constructing a bunker to ride out Mrs Weasley's tirade of righteous indignation. Have you lot all forgotten that I am _not_ a kid?”

“I haven't,” Sirius chimed in, his hand falling to rest on Harry's thigh, and offered the limb a small squeeze. Remus rolled his eyes again.

“This is _beyond_ inappropriate!” Remus sputtered, and Sirius pursed his lips. As much as he loved Moony, he was beginning to sound like a broken record—a _very annoying_ broken record, at that. “Harry, please, you've been through so much, why would you wish to make you life harder—”

Sirius and Harry exchanged a look. Remus's face went very pink.

“Is my life _harder,_ Sirius?” Harry asked him with a sickly-sweet false innocence in his tone.

“Certainly less flaccid,” Sirius replied smoothly, and both men snorted, while Remus scowled again.

“That is _not_ funny,” the werewolf interjected, and Remus crossed his arms.

“It was a little funny,” Sirius replied, and Harry masked a laugh under a false cough. The older man stifled a small yawn, and stretched, using the move to drape an arm over Harry's shoulders and draw him closer. “Look, what will it take to make you to piss off until a more reasonable hour when both of us are more awake? You can lecture us then, if you're so inclined. But it's barely half-six, and I haven't been up this early since our schooldays. It's playing havoc with my beauty rest. It's no small feat, always being the handsomest person in the room, let me tell you.”

“I'm not going _anywhere_ until I talk you two out of—” Remus began, but this time Sirius ignored him.

“Fine, stay here then,” Sirius interjected, and stood up, discarding his barely-touched breakfast. Even his stomach hadn't woken up yet. He turned to his young lover, and stretched out a hand to him. “Harry? Care to join me?”

“That's not app—”

“Get stuffed, Moony,” Sirius retorted grumpily, finally hitting the end of his tether with his friend's attitude. “If I want to sleep in the same bed as my significant other, that's my business.”

Harry didn't answer, but frowned at Sirius a little. He took his hand nonetheless, and ignored Remus's stuttering half-protests as he led the older man from the room and back to their bedroom.

“I need you to cool it with being so antagonistic towards Remus,” Harry said gently as he tugged Sirius down onto the bed. They sat close enough that their thighs touched, and Harry closed both hands over one of Sirius's. “I know you wanted this to come out, and...well...that wasn't _exactly_ how I pictured telling him, but you getting all defensive and snippy isn't helping.”

“I just don't like hearing him pick apart our relationship like he thinks he knows better because he's married and has a little snot monster running around...” Sirius grumbled as he disentangled his hands from Harry's to wrap his arms around the younger man's waist, and draw him closer.

“I believe they call them _children_ these days, Sirius,” Harry replied with a soft chuckle as he reached up to link his hands at the back of the older man's neck. “Look, I know part of this delightful attitude of yours is that you're a right cranky arse when you're woken up too early. So just go back to sleep, and I'll talk with Remus on my own, yeah?”

Sirius leant in to kiss him. It a was barely more than a light peck, but after the frustrating talk with Moony, it felt as passionate as a deep kiss. Harry reached up to stroke his cheek, and when he pulled back from the kiss, the younger man was smiling brightly.

“You sure you want to face _the beast_ on your own?” Sirius asked uncertainly, and Harry chuckled warmly.

“If you're worried he's going to talk me out of our torrid relationship, don't worry. I'm in it for the long haul, and Remus bleating about how _immoral_ it is won't change anything.” Harry kissed him again. “Go to sleep, we'll talk properly about what we wanna do next when you wake up properly.”

“I cannot believe you just used a sheep metaphor to describe a werewolf,” Sirius retorted, and Harry chuckled softly. “Lie with me for a few minutes, at least?”

“Can't sleep without me, eh?” Harry teased as he flopped down on the bed heavily, and Sirius tossed aside his dressing gown before lying down next to him.

“Do you _remember_ that sodding wizarding defence embassy thing in Greece last month?” Sirius asked as he drew Harry close. “I was without you for a whole _three days_. Didn't sleep a wink.”

“Hmm, I don't know about that,” Harry replied while he cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “I have all these vivid memories of lots of mirror sex. Me wanking for you, you wanking for me...”

“Yes, well, all the other times I didn't sleep at all,” Sirius retorted, and tightened his arms around Harry. “You're better than a Sleeping Draught.”

“Hmm,” Harry intoned as he kissed the older man gently, tenderly, and reached up to trail his fingers through Sirius's hair. “So are you saying that I'm so boring that I put you to sleep, or that I'm so comforting that you just relax around me?”

“You know which it is, you twit,” Sirius replied as he leant in for another kiss. Harry let out a small sigh of contentment as he returned it, his hand moving from Sirius's hair to his cheek, stroking the line of his jaw with gentle touches. Sirius stifled a cavernous yawn, and Harry chuckled as he drew him close.

“Come on, sleep, and I'll go keep the stubborn werewolf occupied, yeah?”

Too tired to offer up any sort of retort, Sirius finally allowed his head to slump against his pillow as he fell back to sleep.

 

~*~

 

When Sirius next woke it was nearly noon, and the flat was silent. He'd half-expected to hear some sort of bickering or arguing, and the quiet came as something of a surprise.

He rubbed a hand over his face, dispelling the last of his fatigue as he rolled out of bed, stretching and cracking his aging bones as he went.

Sirius took his time readying himself to face Moony again. He showered, changed into real clothes, and stood in front of the mirror for a full ten minutes, changing the stray grey hairs that he found back to dark brown—just because he was older than Harry didn't mean he needed to look _that_ much older.

 

When he at last made his way to the sitting room, he found Harry alone on the sofa with a cup of coffee and a book open across his knees. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

As he stepped farther into the space, Harry turned and offered him a warm smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Sirius replied as he swept in to peck Harry lightly on the lips. “Where's the world's most annoying werewolf?”

“He gave up about an hour ago when I started describing our sexual exploits in intricate detail,” Harry explained with a wicked grin. “In particular that time I fucked you in the chair he happened to be sitting in. He got fed up and left. I doubt he'll be gone too long though—he's probably just gone to bleach his trousers and use a Memory Charm on himself.”

“No, because Mr Moral High Ground needs to impart his sodding wisdom on us horrid sexual deviants...” Sirius grumbled as he flopped down next to Harry, and his young lover chuckled as he abandoned his book and drink to snuggle closer to Sirius instead.

“Be fair, he means well. He's just worried, that's all.”

“It's more than that, Harry,” Sirius mumbled as he automatically wrapped an arm around Harry's waist to draw him closer. “I hate how it feels like he's judging me because he's married and has a kid, and I just have...well, you.”

“Your young adult lover?” Harry teased, and Sirius chuckled weakly. “He doesn't think less of you, I'm sure...”

“Doesn't he?” Sirius asked, a note of bitter sadness in his voice that made Harry frown. “I mean, he has his whole life together now. He's got an Order of Merlin, First Class, he's head of the Werewolf Liaisons Office at the Ministry, He's got a _house_ , and a wife, and a kid, and I've spent twelve years in Azkaban, then a few years on the run and in hiding, and I've been a free man for barely five years. I don't even know how to _be_ the kind of adult Moony is—”

“—Sirius, no one is asking you to be like Remus!” Harry protested, and his gaze whipped to the younger man, his eyes wide at Harry's near-desperate tone of voice. Before he could say a word, Harry clambered into Sirius's lap, straddled his hips, and kissed him hard.

Sirius's hands fell automatically to Harry's hips as he kissed the young man back, but Harry ended the kiss much sooner than Sirius would have liked as he sat back up and smiled at Sirius warmly.

“I know I wouldn't be half as crazy about you as I am if you were more mature and grown up, or whatever other stupid thing you have stomping around your brain,” Harry said softly. “It's not some sort of race to see who can be the most boring adult first. You have your priorities, and he has his. He wants to be a good husband and father—that is a thing that he _wants_. It doesn't mean he thinks you should be like him. He just has this stupid idea that you somehow convinced me—or, to use his word, _coerced_ me into this relationship of ours, and my _I made the first move, I love him, piss off_ , responses were pretty much ignored.”

“Despite that mild-mannered attitude, he's always been stubborn as hell,” Sirius muttered. “I just hate that it feels like he's judging us because of this. I never really expected people finding out to feel so...bad.”

“I do remember warning you about ten thousand times about this...” Harry teased, and Sirius snorted.

“What should we do if Remus returns with Molly or Hermione or both in tow?” Sirius asked, arching a brow at Harry as he spoke.

“Run?”

“Some Gryffindor you are.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, when at the same moment a firm knock sounded from the front door.

Both Harry and Sirius groaned, their heads bowing forward almost in unison as they braced their heads upon each other's shoulders.

“Which do you want?” Harry mumbled, “tea detail or door detail?”

“Tea,” Sirius answered at once, “you can face _the beast_.”

Chuckling, Harry stood up and headed for the door, while Sirius hastened to the kitchen to put together a platter of tea (in his favourite cranberry-coloured teapot) and biscuits. It took less than five minutes, and as he carried it back to the sitting room, he saw not just Harry and Remus, but Hermione as well, who appeared quite confused as to why she was there.

“Good news,” Harry said with an exaggerated grin as Sirius set the platter down and joined Harry on the sofa. “Remus has learned how doors work. Quite the revelation—apparently, _knocking_ is how to get it to open, not just bursting through them at the crack of dawn.”

Remus narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, but both Harry and Sirius ignored the look as they went about serving up the tea. Sirius was careful to leave a large gap in Remus's cup for his usual obscene amount of milk and sugar, while the others he filled right to the brim. Once everyone had their cups, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

“So is anyone going to tell me what's going on?” she asked uncertainly, “Remus barged over to my and Ron's flat and insisted that there was something I needed to see, and brought me here.”

“He didn't tell you?” Harry asked, blinking in confusion as he stared across at her. She shook her head as she took a sip of her tea.

“I didn't think she'd believe me if I just _told_ her,” Remus explained stiffly. “She needed to see it for herself.”

“Is this about Harry and Sirius being together?” Hermione asked innocently, and Sirius just barely managed to bite back a laugh when Remus's milky tea came flying out of his nose.

“How on earth do you know?” Remus demanded, albeit a little hoarsely as he mopped tea from him face, “did Harry tell you?”

“Harry most certainly did not,” Harry said, and Sirius chuckled softly.

“Be fair, they haven't been exactly _subtle_ about it,” Hermione said as she giggled, and this time, Sirius blinked in confusion.

“We haven't?” Harry and Sirius asked at the same time, then paused and glanced at each other as Hermione giggled again.

“You two are so obviously head over heels for each other. It's as plain as day,” Hermione explained, pointedly ignoring Remus's growing look of horror at what Hermione was saying. “Also, when I visited to help Harry pack for your trip a few months ago, I could see you two snogging in the kitchen. I waited until it looked like you'd finished before I interrupted, I think you would have completely forgotten I was even there otherwise.”

“How— _how_ can you be okay with this?” Remus sputtered as he turned away from Harry and Sirius, and focused on Hermione. “Harry is _half_ Sirius's age! They should both be with people more appropriate—”

“—like _who_ ,” Sirius interrupted with a sneer, “a nice little witch in her forties, maybe a single mum, and make more babies? We're not hurting anyone, Moony, when are you going to leave this alone?”

“Harry is—” Remus began, but this time it seemed as though Harry had had enough.

“Oh for the love of all that is holy—Remus, I am _not_ a fucking child!” Harry half-yelled, his voice so strong in its indignation that it made the werewolf jump in surprise. “I am twenty-two years old. _Twenty-_ two. Not twelve, not fifteen, _twenty-two_. Legally, physically, and emotionally I am what is commonly referred to as an _adult_. Sirius had never once treated me like a little kid, or coddled me, or anything. We're equals in every sense of the word. Just because he's a little bit older than me doesn't change anything. I love him, he loves me, and if you can't take it, then get the hell out of our home, and don't come back until you've smartened up. I've had enough of listening you talk as if I'm some stupid kid who has no idea what he's saying.”

Harry pointed to the front door, and absolute quiet followed his words. Remus appeared to have been shocked into silence, and he sat, staring blankly at Harry as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Despite his strong, assured voice as he had spoke, Sirius could feel Harry trembling minutely next to him, and he wrapped a protective arm around the younger man's waist. Immediately he calmed, but did not shift his gaze from his former professor. His arm relaxed into his lap, but Harry's look of anger did not fade from his face.

“Harry, please,” Remus said, though his tone had gone from firm and certain to feeble and plaintive. It was a sound that Sirius knew well—he was losing the argument, and knew it. “I beg you to see reason. This isn't healthy, it—”

“—how is it unhealthy, specifically?” he interrupted. “What aspects of our relationship, which you have known about for barely six hours, do you see as problematic? Spell it out as though I were a total idiot. Do you see any indications that I'm being abused, sexually or otherwise? Do you see Sirius controlling me in some unhealthy manner? Am I some how dramatically changed, and not in a good way?” Harry arched a brow at Remus, and the werewolf frowned at him. “Or is it the gay thing? You don't approve because we're two blokes, but you're too politically correct to say it?”

“Sirius will know better than most that it is most assuredly not the _gay thing,_ as you put it,” Remus said stiffly, and Harry shifted his gaze to Sirius, his brow cocked in question.

“We shagged for most of our sixth and seventh years,” Sirius responded without missing a beat, and bit the inside of his cheek when he saw the way Remus turned a blotchy red at the deadpan, casual explanation.

“So what is it, then? Seriously, Remus, what is it that bothers you so much?” Harry asked, his eyes wide and questioning, as though he'd somehow reverted back to a curious student, and not the young adult that he was.

“It is _not appropriate_ for a man his age to be touching you and having sex with you,” Remus said firmly, and crossed his arms as his glare shifted from Harry to Sirius. In response, Sirius tightened the arm around Harry, and he leant into the touch, while at the same time reaching out to offer Sirius's knee a gentle squeeze.

“You and Tonks have a pretty big age gap, but you don't hear either of us giving you a hard time about it,” Harry pointed out, and Remus gritted his teeth in clear frustration. Sirius couldn't completely blame him for the reaction—he was sure that trying to argue with them was like trying to argue with a brick wall.

However, now the arguments were going in circles, and knowing how stubborn Remus could be, Sirius could not see it ending any time soon. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly untangled himself from Harry and stood up, closing the distance between himself and his last surviving friend.

“Moony, you have said your piece, now I would like you to leave,” Sirius said firmly. Remus's eyes widened with shock at his tone, and his lips parted immediately to protest. Sirius got there first. “Until you have something more to say than pass blanket judgment on me and Harry for our slightly unconventional relationship, I do not want you here. You have your own family, and I will not just sit here and listen to you try and tell me that my life is wrong, simply because _you_ refuse to approve of it. Out. Now.”

Remus looked as though he'd been slapped. He gaped at Sirius, his mouth opening and closing silently like a fish out of water. Sirius did not back down, but held his ground as he waited, and ever so slowly Remus got up from his seat with a heavy, defeated sigh, and Sirius marched him to the door.

“Sirius—” Remus began as they stood on the threshold, and he gazed at Sirius imploringly. “I—please...”

“Good day, Remus,” Sirius replied stiffly. “Send me an owl when you've gotten over being such a judgmental arse.”

Without another word, Sirius shunted his friend the rest of the way out the door, and slammed it in his face.

The same moment that the door slammed, Sirius heard the distinct _whoosh_ of the Floo, indicating that Hermione had taken her leave as well.

Sirius shifted the lock on the door, and shuffled back to the sitting room, where Harry was trading the tea tray for two tumblers and a bottle of scotch.

“What have I done?” Sirius asked with a groan as he slumped down next to Harry on the sofa, “Moony is never going to speak to me again...”

“You'd _rather_ he hang around and make a pest of himself?” Harry asked as he poured out a measure of the drink for each of them, and pressed one of the glasses into Sirius's hand. “I feel like he'd keep nagging us until either we kicked him out or we gave in.”

“It's one of Moony's qualities,” Sirius muttered as he sipped at the drink. The burn was soothing, and made him feel warm, though not terribly relaxed. “I'm just so knackered already and it's barely noon...”

“Want me to make it better?” Harry asked in a soft, flirtatious voice, and Sirius snorted into his glass.

“Not your best chat-up line...” Sirius retorted teasingly, and Harry laughed a little.

“Well, I was planning on saving that for later, but I was thinking more along the lines of letting me do your hair,” Harry explained as he reached up and twined his fingers through a lock, and offered Sirius a warm smile.

Sirius grinned, and he knew that that was all the answer Harry needed.

 

~*~

 

Harry had a number of hidden talents that his friends did not know about—his secret desire to abandon Auror training and become a pastry chef, his deep love of body shots (but _only_ if Sirius was involved), and most endearingly, his obsession with playing with Sirius's hair.

It had become most apparent after a vigorous session of lovemaking, and Sirius looked like a cat had taken up residence on his head that Harry would laugh, draw him close, and begin to gently work out the tangles by hand, instead of using magic.

Sirius had never had his hair done without magic prior to that moment. With magic, it always took less than thirty seconds to fix it, and he could go on with his day. He had never quite imagined how such a small act could feel so deeply intimate, strengthen their relationship, and somehow make it better. Harry's hands were like artist's hands, and he could wield a comb with as much precision as defensive magic—and Sirius _loved_ it.

 

Harry had summoned the office chair they often used for these sessions, and conjured a black basin with a dip in the side for Sirius to lay his neck on comfortably. Harry layered a towel over it before he coaxed Sirius to lie back, and he listened to the soft rush of water from the manoeuvrable spout, as Harry wet his hair, and reached for the hair potion.

“Oh no,” Harry said with a soft, lamenting lilt to his voice, his fingers buried in Sirius's hair as he worked the potion into a lather, and Sirius's eyes snapped open.

“What?”

“You've coloured your grey again,” Harry said, and Sirius snorted.

“I don't need a visual representation of my advanced age, thank you,” Sirius replied, and Harry laughed a little as his nimble fingers massaged Sirius's scalp, sending him back to an advanced state of relaxation.

“I think it makes you look _distinguished_ ,” Harry replied, “like a silver fox or something. I like it.”

“Just you wait until _you_ start going grey,” Sirius muttered as Harry laughed again, “it doesn't feel very distinguished.”

“By then you'll be a wrinkly old raisin with white hair—” Harry teased as he rinsed the potion from his hair, and reached for another, “but you'll still be beautiful to me.”

“Is _anyone_ beautiful when they're that old?” Sirius asked as he scrunched up his nose, and Harry laughed as he massaged the conditioning potion into his locks.

“You will be,” Harry said with unabashed certainty as he massaged the thick salve into his hair, then began to work out the minor tangles. “You're beautiful at every age. I know you'll be beautiful at eighty, and ninety, and one hundred...”

“All right, enough,” Sirius cut in as he laughed, “you might have a thing for prime, aged cock, but I have yet to acquire that particular taste.”

Harry chuckled, but offered up no reply as he rinsed the salve from his hair and squeezed it out before he wrapped it in a towel and helped his lover sit up. He vanished the basin and manually dried Sirius's hair until it was damp, but not soaking, and draped the towel over his shoulders before he reached up to card his fingers through Sirius's thick locks. Sirius let out a soft groan close to a purr, and he heard Harry chuckle behind him.

“I love your hair,” Harry said reverently as he ran his fingers through it, “if you ever come home with it cut really short I'll probably cry, just to warn you.”

“So no buzz cuts, then?” Sirius teased, his eyes shut as he focused on the delicious feeling of Harry's fingers weaving through his locks, and the younger man let out a cry as though he'd been mortally wounded.

“It would be a travesty!” Harry protested as his fingers stilled in his hair. “Sirius, don't you dare, I mean it.”

“I think we both know I'm far too pretty to look _that_ butch,” Sirius teased, and tilted his head back to look up at Harry with a warm smile. Harry returned it immediately, and bowed forward to kiss him gently. His hand cradled Sirius's chin as though he were precious, while the other remained in his hair, combing through the long locks gently as they kissed.

As though Harry could sense when Sirius began to get a crick in his neck, he pulled back, licking his lips like Sirius was a taste he wished to savour. Quite suddenly, Sirius had absolutely no desire to continue doing his hair, and longed to just drag Harry into another kiss. It was a trial to remain still.

“I thought I'd braid your hair,” Harry said in a rough, rushed tone, “one of the herringbone ones that you like.”

“I swear to God, Harry, you should just quit the Aurors and become a hair stylist,” Sirius remarked as he nodded to Harry's suggestion, and watched the younger man pick up a comb from the side table to work out the rest of the minor tangles. “You'd do so well. You're good at this, and there's the added bonus that I won't need to as obsessively worry that you'll get yourself killed at work.”

“You say that now, but I can see the _Daily Prophet_ article— _Harry Potter Murdered by Angry Witch with a Bad Perm_.”

“Ah, well maybe the muggle way is better—”

“—I have a feeling chemical burns are worse, since you can't exactly mend it with the flick of a wand,” Harry pointed out in a mild tone, his fingers moving deftly as he twined Sirius's hair into the braid, and the older man chuckled a little at the remark.

“Well, it was just a suggestion,” Sirius replied with a small shrug, “Auror or Hair Stylist, you do whatever you like.”

“I always do,” Harry replied in the same voice, and Sirius frowned. Something about the way Harry spoke was bothering him, but he waited until he had proclaimed that he'd finished before Sirius spun in the chair to face his young lover.

Harry faltered in his clearing up, and eyed Sirius uncertainly. Sirius had no such qualms, and promptly tugged Harry into his lap.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows at him in a way that told Harry that he wanted an honest answer.

“'Course I am,” Harry replied quickly— _too_ quickly, Sirius noted—“why wouldn't I be?”

“It's just that every time we talk about life _stuff_ , you get...well, not tetchy, but weirdly sarcastic.”

“Weirdly sarcastic?” Harry repeated back at him, and Sirius nodded. “How d'you mean _weirdly sarcastic_?”

“Well, whenever we talk about your Auror training, or I say something like, _you should do this instead, because you're good at it_ , you always have a smart remark about it. It's a little worrying, that's all.”

After their confrontation with Moony, Sirius could feel that both of them were a little raw and emotionally exhausted. Defending their relationship had been harder than Sirius had expected, and he could see the similar weariness reflected in Harry's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to pull Harry close and forget this day had ever happened, but at the same time it felt as though hashing out all their issues at once might be a good thing—free them, somehow, from all the bollocks that had been bogging them down.

“Let me get a cuppa tea, then we can talk,” Harry said with a small sigh of defeat, “you want one too?”

Sirius nodded as he stood up, banishing the chair to its usual place in their study, and leant in to brush his lips over Harry's in the ghost of a kiss. He could feel Harry shiver a little, and he pulled Sirius in for a real kiss before he pulled back abruptly and darted towards the kitchen without looking back.

Sirius eased down onto their sofa as he waited for Harry to return. Clearly, beyond Remus finding out what had happened, something was bothering Harry, and Sirius felt that distinct ache of guilt in the pit of his stomach for not having noticed it earlier. He knew that Harry could have had the tea ready in mere moments, but instead it seemed that he was doing it manually, perhaps psyching himself up for talking to Sirius—he wasn't entirely certain.

At last Harry returned, and he did indeed look a little nervous. Sirius arranged his face into something that he hoped looked neutral, though if Harry noticed, he did not comment on it one way or the other. He bore two mugs in his hands—one was the clear glass mug that Sirius favoured for his morning coffee, and the other was a simple ceramic mug in deep burgundy that always gave the impression of a more grown-up and distinguished version of the famed Gryffindor shade.

Moving Sirius like a shop-window dummy, Harry shifted him until he lay upon the sofa, and after handing Sirius his cup of tea, Harry settled down between his legs.

“I kept meaning to talk to you about this, but I didn't know exactly how,” Harry began, punctuating his words with a sip of the soothing beverage. “Remus finding out about us put me on edge, and honestly I really didn't expect him to react as badly as he did. He was so... _judgmental._ I never pegged him for being like that.”

“He always wanted nothing more than to be a totally normal wizard,” Sirius explained gently, “he never reacted well to things outside what he considered _normal_ because of his issues with how he sees himself. It took him a very long time to accept himself as a wizard _and_ werewolf, and he still struggles with it sometimes. Really, it's not against you, or us, though I agree his holier-than-thou attitude I could definitely go without experiencing again.”

Harry chuckled as he reached out to squeeze Sirius's arm affectionately. In return Sirius kissed his shoulder, and wrapped his free arm more securely around his young lover.

“Now enough beating around the bush—tell me what's wrong.”

Sirius's straightforward command made Harry sag with defeat. He stared off into space, and at first Sirius suspected that he was doddling, but after a moment he realized that like before, Harry was trying to gather his thoughts and formulate them into an explanation that made sense.

“When I was in school, the only real career I thought about was being an Auror,” Harry began, his tone halting and awkward, “and then the war happened, and when it was over, people talked at me about how _well_ I would do in the Auror program, and how _perfect_ I was for it, and Hermione got off my back about finishing school when I decided to jump right into training...”

Sirius could all but hear the _but_ as Harry trailed off.

“But...?” Sirius prompted when Harry did not immediately speak.

“ _But_ I don't think it's what I really want,” Harry replied in a rush, and he seemed to sag with relief after he'd voiced it. “I kept going with it because everyone from Mrs Weasley, to Ron and Hermione, to all my other school friends and the other Order members...they just all _expected_ it of me. I once— _once—_ mentioned to Hermione that I wasn't sure that it was what I wanted to do, and she just got so upset with me, like I'd told her I'd opened a restaurant that served babies or something. She just went on and on about how we needed to _make a difference_ and _be in the right places to affect change_ and all that rot, never mind that all I ever wanted to be was unnoticed, and fade into obscurity. I make the papers if I _sneeze_. She's famous too, after all the stuff we did during the war, but she's not famous how I am. I just...I don't want to do something important, or be some sort of figurehead, I just want to have a life that I enjoy, not one that's full of expectations like this...”

“Harry, if you were this miserable, why didn't you tell me sooner?” Sirius asked gently, abandoning his tea in favour of wrapping both arms around Harry's middle securely. Harry leant back into the embrace, but still held fast to his own mug.

“I'm not really miserable,” Harry explained, “I mean, the coursework and things is interesting, but after killing _one_ dark wizard, I just can't picture doing it for the rest of my life. There are other things I enjoy beyond just Quidditch and Defence, but I can't even explore them because Hermione or one of the others will jump down my throat over it—like how Remus did today with finding out about us. It's not their business what I do, or what we do, but somehow they decide that it _is_. It's so frustrating.”

“You are in charge of you,” Sirius said gently, and kissed the top of his shoulder. “I don't give a rat's arse if Merlin himself rose from the grave to tell you to become an Auror, if you don't want to do it, then _don't._ You'll just wind up miserable.”

“But what else could I do?” Harry asked, and Sirius felt his heart ache at the lost, uncertain tone with which he spoke.

“Well, you could be a philanthropist, or a gentleman of leisure. Or we could get married and really piss off Hermione by calling you my _househusband_.” Sirius grinned when Harry snorted, and offered him another gentle squeeze.

“Yeah she nearly murdered Ron when he teasingly asked her if she'd ever be a housewife like Molly...I don't think Hermione would do well with domesticity, she's too ambitious for that, to say the least.”

“More likely she'd become Minister at some point, and Ron would take up the role of staying home with the babies,” Sirius quipped, and Harry laughed again. As the laughter died down, Sirius returned to his original point. “But there's a million things. You could breed thestrals with Hagrid, or stop him from crossbreeding ostriches and hummingbirds, or whatever weird cross-species he's working on this time—you could open a salon, you could become a pastry chef, coach children's Quidditch, er...” Sirius racked his brain for more ideas. “Oooh, you could always become a sex toy tester.”

“ _Sex Toy Tester?_ ” Harry asked between giggles, “is that even a thing?”

“Of course it is,” Sirius replied, which only succeeded in making Harry laugh again. “Every product needs to be tested, and the best part is you'd never have to get out of bed again.”

“And there's always the added bonus of you can _help_ me test them...” Harry said as he set aside his half-empty mug and turned over in Sirius's embrace, a coy smile playing across his lips.

“Hmm...I'm starting to really like this idea...” Sirius purred as he drew Harry in for a kiss, “I've always wanted to try those day-long anal plugs...”

“Imagining you walking around all day with a plug in is _so_ hot...” Harry replied, his voice escaping him as a moan, “imagine riding your motorbike with one in...” Sirius groaned this time, and bit down on Harry's lower lip gently, tugging on it before he kissed him again.

“Oh, baby, I _love_ how filthy your mind is...” Sirius murmured as he tugged Harry closer—

Only to be interrupted by a small squeak, which he would have mistaken for a mouse, had it not been for the masculine, distinctively human lilt to the voice.

Or werewolf, as the case may be.

Harry turned from Sirius, a strange mixture of a whine and a groan escaping him as he shifted his gaze to the fire, where Remus's head was perched, his eyes wide with surprise. Even through the fire, Sirius could see that his face was bright red.

_I swear, Remus has the worst fucking timing in the universe._

“I...er...” Remus began, and his flush seemed to only worsen when both Harry and Sirius reached down to adjust how their groins sat in order to make their twin erections less noticeable.

“You've already interrupted us, so you may as well come through,” Sirius said with a grumble.

“ _If he says one word against our relationship, I'm turning him into a shrubbery,_ ” Harry hissed, and Sirius bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as the green, spinning form of his last surviving friend appeared in their fireplace, mere seconds before the man himself was sprawled across their hearth.

“You've managed to leave us alone for nearly three hours,” Sirius said, his voice heavy with disdain that would have made his mother almost proud. Remus winced at the sound of it as he stood up and brushed himself off, though his gaze never managed to make it all the way to their faces. “Did you come up with a new argument as to why we're not allowed to be together, or are you just going to parrot everything that you said to us earlier?”

“I came to say I'm sorry,” Remus said, and his amber gaze snapped up to lock with Sirius's grey one. “I told Dora what had happened...”

“ _Oh, balls,_ ” Harry hissed, but Sirius smirked a little at this admission. He had a feeling that he knew how this story would end.

“...and she hit me with Teddy's toy broomstick.” Remus finished, and winced as he reached for the back of his head, no doubt where there would be a big bump as proof. “She claimed that everyone's known for months that you two are...” Remus flushed a deep scarlet again, cleared his throat, and continued. “Apparently, some of the Weasleys have been taking bets as to when you two will admit openly about... _it..._ and Molly keeps talking about how it's been so long since they've had a wedding...” again, Remus cut himself off, a look of minor unease registering upon his face. “I suppose I was the only one who didn't know.”

“A new record, considering you're usually so keen-eyed when it comes to secrets like this,” Sirius said with the same sneering tone, and Harry elbowed him gently in an obvious hint to shut him up.

“I'm sorry,” Remus repeated, his gaze flicking from Harry to Sirius and back again, indicating that he meant the apology to go to both of them. “Seeing you two this morning...it was a shock, to say the least. I wasn't exactly expecting to find you two like that. But...you're happy?”

Sirius smiled, remnants of the Remus Lupin he had known for so long shone through this new, more mature version of himself. Sirius wrapped his arms around Harry, and the younger man mirrored the embrace at once.

“We are,” Harry confirmed, and Sirius nodded in agreement.

“This is the happiest I've ever been, Moony,” Sirius added, and he saw the briefest flicker of guilt register in Remus's eyes, as though finally realizing that there was nothing _sick_ about their involvement.

“Will you...tell me about it?” Remus asked uncertainly, “I want to understand.”

Sirius exchanged a look with Harry. They _had_ been right in the middle of something—or close to it, at least, but Moony's quick turnaround, at least to Sirius, said that they needed to take this time, and not brush him off.

Harry seemed to feel the same, and offered Sirius a small smile and nod.

Over more tea, the whole story came out. Harry told most of it, almost bouncing excitedly in his seat as he spoke. Sirius had never heard Harry's side of their story, and it was endearingly sweet how Harry only began to notice him when Charlie had made casual passes at him at Harry's birthday, but little did he know that Sirius had never had eyes for anyone _but_ Harry.

Even now, more than a year into their relationship, Sirius could recall the days and sleepless nights following the war as he watched Harry grow from a boy into a man—a _gay_ man, and a handsome one, at that.

Sirius remembered the months of vivid nightmares, where Harry would wake screaming, tears pouring down his face, convinced that Voldemort had somehow returned, or he witnessed graphic reenactments of the deaths of his loved ones—Cedric, Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby, Fred—even Snape, for some strange reason, though Harry had never told him why the slimy git was making guest appearances in his dreams.

Sirius would console him, allow Harry to cling to him, childlike, shaking violently as he rode out the aftershocks of his nightmares. Some nights, Harry would shyly ask to share his bed, and once again, Harry seemed as though he had regressed to that of a young child, in desperate need of closeness and affection. There was nothing sexual about it, and Sirius regarded Harry as nothing more than his adult godson, who was more damaged by the war than he ever let on to his friends.

But as time passed, the platonic aspect of their relationship, that line Sirius hadn't been even aware of, began to blur.

He began to see Harry differently, and at first, he hated himself for it. He was a handsome young man, struggling through the trauma the war had left upon his mind, and Sirius was a lonely older man, whose pool of friends had shrunk significantly after Remus married Tonks and had little Teddy.

Sirius swore to himself that he'd not be the one to make the first move—he refused to risk their relationship like that, especially when Harry seemed to depend on him so much.

But when Harry had burst into their shared flat one day, nearly a full year after Sirius's feelings had first begun to change, his face set with determination, Sirius was subject to the shock of his life when Harry strode over to him purposefully, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

As first kisses went, it wasn't the greatest they'd ever had, but they'd long since made up for it.

“I dunno what else to say,” Harry said, his voice drawing Sirius out of his memories, and he smiled warmly at the way Harry stared down at his knees, a bashful smile upon his face, and his cheeks pink, but with joy, and not embarrassment. “We just... _work_. It's been so good, and I'm so happy, but I was really scared of people finding out. I didn't want you lot to think Sirius pushed me into this, when it wasn't like that at all.”

Harry's hand found his, and Sirius squeezed it firmly. A warm, tingling sensation seemed to wash through his body. Sirius felt it from his cheeks to his thighs, and he longed to drag Harry close. However, Remus seemed to be teetering between concern and acceptance, and he had a feeling that such a display of affection would not tip the scales in their favour at the moment.

“I've loved Harry for a long time in a way that I felt I shouldn't,” Sirius added, his voice a little rough from the emotions coursing through him. “I had no reason to deny him when he came to me. It's been pretty much perfect ever since. I've _never_ been in a relationship this...comfortable.”

“I'm happy for you, I am,” Remus said, and it sounded as though he meant it, too. His mouth quirked into a mischievous smile that Sirius had not seen since their Marauder days, and his gaze shifted to Harry. “As the token best friend, I do believe it's my sworn duty to threaten you with bodily harm if you hurt him. Understand, Harry?”

Harry snorted as Sirius barked a laugh, while Moony offered them both a reserved smile.

“Yes, Remus,” Harry said as he calmed down, “I won't hurt him, I swear.”

“That's the most prim and proper variation of _if you hurt him I will beat you to death with a shovel_ I have ever heard,” Sirius remarked, and this time Remus chuckled in response.

“Well, as you so eloquently pointed out last time, I am _the Dad Friend_ , it's my duty to sound stuffy and no fun, right?” Remus teased in the same mild tone he always spoke in, and the couple laughed again.

“Do you _ever_ let down your hair, Remus?” Harry asked suddenly between chuckles, and Sirius smirked.

“A bottle of bourbon and a few glasses of scotch, and Remus will give you a strip show you won't soon forge—” Sirius began, just as Remus flicked his wand at him, silencing him, but it was too late, and Harry was clutching his ribs as he howled with laughter, the former professor beet-red with embarrassment.

“Harry does _not_ need to know about that, Sirius,” Remus said, his face still very red, and voice barely audible above Harry's continuous shouts of laughter. Unable to speak, Sirius merely offered his friend a wicked grin. “Harry, if you repeat that story to anyone— _especially_ Dora, I will kill you.”

Remus flicked his wand at Sirius, returning his voice to him, while the couple exchanged wicked grins. Remus did not look particularly cheered by the look they exchanged.

 

~*~

 

For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening the trio chatted amiably, and Remus only left when he mentioned that he'd promised to cook tonight for Tonks and Teddy, and took his leave. It was one of the best afternoons Sirius could recall having. Though he longed for Remus to leave so that he and Harry could celebrate their _coming out_ , so to speak, properly, he hadn't the heart to make Remus leave—especially now that it was quite clear that they could go public with their relationship without fear.

Once Remus finally _did_ leave, Sirius had little thought beyond begging Harry for an early night, but his lover insisted they at least have dinner first.

Sirius was entirely unhelpful, as usual, and leant against the edge of the table in a pair of tight jeans and a fitted button-down shirt opened at the chest, which had the desired effect of completely distracting Harry from cooking, and thus nearly burned their dinner—twice.

“You _need_ to stop doing that,” Harry said when they finally sat down to eat, and with Sirius's mouth full of fish, he raised his eyebrows at Harry with a look of mock innocence that the younger man did not buy for a second.

“Doing what?” Sirius asked innocently once he'd swallowed, and Harry snorted.

“Dressing like a wet dream come to life,” Harry said. “It makes it impossible to think on anything else except wanting to rip your clothes off and shag you senseless.”

“And that's bad because...?”

“It's bad when I'm at the cooker,” Harry said as he kicked him lightly under the table. “I'd rather not burn our building down.”

“You are no fun,” Sirius teased as he hooked his ankle around Harry's, “the whole _point_ is that I'd rather you eat me than fish and salad.”

“You are _so_ getting punished tonight for being such a brat,” Harry retorted, his mouth twitching into a similar smile to Sirius's.

Sirius grinned.

“Good.”

 

~*~

 

By the time Sirius had tumbled into bed with Harry on top of him, he was quite certain that Harry had been determined to torture him as much as humanly possible first. Harry asked Sirius to clear up—which he did without complaint—then he insisted on an evening tea, then he wanted to tidy the flat, all the while smirking at his lover knowingly, making it clear that he knew _exactly_ what all the waiting was doing to him.

When Sirius's back _did_ at last hit the mattress, he could have sung with joy. Harry's mouth covered his with a rough, needy kiss, and Sirius groaned as he returned it with equal enthusiasm. His hands buried themselves into Harry's tousled hair, and Harry's fingers went to the tie at the base of Sirius's braid. With a few gentle tugs it unravelled itself, and Sirius's long hair fanned out across the coverlet.

“Fuck, Sirius,” Harry whispered as he straddled the older man and kissed him again, “I love you. I love you so much—”

“Love you too, Harry, Gods...” he cut himself off with a groan as Harry dug the heel of his palm into the growing erection beneath his jeans, and he let out a soft cry before he dragged Harry to him again, and dug his fingers under the hem of the young man's T-shirt, then dragged it up and off.

Sirius leant forward to kiss at Harry's throat, and grunted when Harry stopped him short and pressed him back into the mattress.

“No, no, no...” Harry said, his voice teasing and sing-song. “You were a total pest all evening, you need to be properly _punished..._ ”

“Harry,” Sirius groaned as Harry pinned his arms above his head, “don't do this to me...”

Harry ignored the feeble plea, and kissed him hard, his hand fastening around Sirius's wrists to pin them above his head. He shifted his grip to hold onto Sirius with one hand, and used the other to deftly unbutton the sleek shirt he'd worn to taunt and tease Harry for the bulk of the evening.

Sirius tried to ignore the faint tickle of the lift and fall of the garment as Harry thumbed open the buttons, the silk brushing his chest like butterfly kisses. The light contact was driving Sirius close to madness, and he squirmed beneath Harry, his hips arching in an obvious hint, but Harry merely pulled back from their heated kiss to offer the older man a wicked grin, and arched out of his reach.

“Harry, you little arsehole,” Sirius said with an anguished moan as though he was inflicting Sirius with physical pain, “ _stop teasing me!_ ”

“Why should I?” Harry asked sweetly, and used his wand to discard the shirt the rest of the way so that he would not have to let go of Sirius. “I told you, you need to be _punished_.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius said with a derisive snort, “you know you won't be able to hold out to properly punish me...”

Harry arched a brow at him.

“Is that a challenge, Mr Black?”

Something about Harry's sudden shift to a silky tone unnervingly similar to how Snape's had been made him shiver. Sirius had a feeling that he was in _deep_ trouble.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. When Harry's mouth slid into an evil smirk, he whimpered audibly.

“ _Incarcerous._ ”

Sirius cried out in surprise as his wrists snapped together and his legs sprang apart, while thin ropes affixed themselves to the bedposts at the end of the bed as well as the headboard, binding Sirius in place securely.

“ _Harry!_ ” Sirius cried indignantly, “let me go!”

Harry responded with another grin as he straddled Sirius, his arse perched lightly upon the obvious bulge in the older man'stight jeans.

“I told you,” Harry said as he leant forward to offer Sirius a light kiss, “you need to be _punished_. I'd spank you, but you'd enjoy that too much. So you get to watch me until I feel like you've suffered enough.”

“Are you sure that that Horcrux is really completely gone from that brain of yours?” Sirius asked dryly, and Harry swatted his chest lightly.

“Quiet, you,” Harry said as he slid off of Sirius, and stood up momentarily to kick off his jeans and boxer-briefs before he settled back down on the end of the bed and began to stroke himself. Sirius felt his cock positively _ache_ at the sight. He squirmed and moaned as though agonized at the thought of being tied down like this, but they both knew that if he was in any real distress, he would just spout his safeword— _cheesecake—_ and Harry would stop.

“Harry...” Sirius whimpered, squirming in his bindings as Harry brushed his thumb over the leaking tip, “please...”

“Oh, I love it when you beg...” Harry said with a moan as he tilted his head back a little, but kept his eyes fixed on Sirius. “Your bottom lip gets all quivery, and it's just so fucking adorable...”

Sirius bit his bottom lip and glared at his young lover, who answered with another grin, and resumed strong his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Sirius groaned, “Harry, _please_ , I'm sorry, all right? Just fuck me already or I'm going to explode.”

“Isn't exploding the whole point?” Harry teased, his voice becoming a little breathless as he continued to stare at Sirius. Sirius scowled, and the younger man snorted.

With a soft sigh, Harry let go of his erection, and crawled back over to Sirius. He straddled him again before he bowed his body forward, blanketing the larger man with his lithe form. Sirius's arms twitched, longing to embrace Harry, but his young lover did not seem to feel inclined to release him just yet.

As they snogged, Sirius saw Harry lift his wand out of the corner of his eye, and shivered when his jeans and pants vanished. Harry chuckled at the reaction, and rubbed his hands up and down Sirius's pale thighs gently.

“Ready?” Harry murmured between kisses, and Sirius groaned.

“ _Yes_.”

Chuckling again, Harry pulled back a little and flicked his wand once, followed by a quick jab.

The first wand movement summoned the lubricant from their bedside table, and the second freed Sirius's ankles. He immediately took advantage of his newfound mobility by hooking his legs around Harry's waist, and he drew him close.

“I can't prepare you if you're holding me like that,” Harry protested with a laugh, but still leant back in to kiss him again. Their mouths moulded together on instinct, and not for the first time, Sirius was struck with the sheer _rightness_ of being with Harry like this.

“Sorry, Harry,” Sirius murmured between kisses, “you're just so hard to resist...”

Both giggling like schoolchildren, Sirius finally let Harry go and he watched with a lazy, but aroused smile as Harry unscrewed the lid of the jar and dipped his fingers into the clear gel.

His arse seemed to tingle with anticipation as he watched Harry adjust his position, and brush the slick fingers teasingly over his entrance.

Sirius immediately moaned, and Harry's mouth quirked into a smile as he pressed the digits gently against his arse, and ever so slowly, breached the entrance.

Sirius's eyes fluttered shut and he relaxed against the mattress as he spread his legs wider in invitation. He heard Harry chuckle, but offered up no other response as he pressed the fingers in farther, gently scissoring him and stretching him. Sirius let out a soft groan as he tried to bear down on the digits, but his wrists still bound to the headboard stopped him from going very far.

“Harry,” Sirius groaned, but did not open his eyes, “ _please..._ ”

This time, thankfully, Harry did not respond with a teasing remark, but instead removed his fingers and moved into position between his parted thighs. He heard Harry mumble something, and he assumed that it was a counter-curse, given the way his wrists sprang apart following it.

“Look at me,” Harry commanded, and Sirius's eyes immediately snapped open.

Harry's eyes were darkened with lust, and he was smiling at Sirius with unabashed love. In one, Sirius felt both loved and desired; the protector and protected. Never in his life did he expect to find a love quite like _this,_ and as always, he was deeply grateful now that he'd found it _._

Sirius let out a tiny groan as Harry began to slide himself into the older man, and he relaxed on instinct, welcoming Harry into his body wholeheartedly.

When Harry had fully sheathed himself inside of Sirius, the older man instinctively hooked his legs around his waist, holding him in place. Both men were panting softly but sharply, and Sirius arched up to kiss Harry deeply, their tongues tangling together messily as they strove to taste the other as thoroughly as they could. As they kissed, Harry began to move.

Harry rocked his hips slowly at first, and Sirius followed his movements easily, their mouths parting, but only by a few centimetres. Sirius stared up at Harry dazedly, and Harry responded with a small smirk as he sped up his thrusts.

Sirius fell back onto the bed, grunting and rocking his hips with Harry, his fingers reaching up to thread through the fabric of the duvet, both their bodies shiny and slippery with sweat, and the room silent, save for the soft grunts and groans as they moved together.

Harry found his release first, and Sirius moaned as he felt the wet heat fill him. The younger man continued to move, breathing harshly as one hand lifted from Sirius's waist to close around his cock, stroking him to orgasm.

Sirius came with a cry, and as his seed flooded onto Harry's hand and dotted his abdomen, he felt every muscle in his body immediately relax.

Harry slumped forward as he pulled out of him, lying on top of Sirius comfortably. He was panting softly, but smiling, the perfect picture of contentment.

Sirius reached up to stroke his hair, and smiled indulgently at the way his fingers disappeared into the thick locks. Harry purred like a contented cat, and slid off of Sirius to curl up into his side, while Sirius took to the task of cleaning them up of their respective messes with a quick flick of his wand.

“You were brilliant,” Sirius murmured as he leant in to kiss the top of Harry's head, “I love it when you get all forceful like that.”

“I love that you let me,” Harry mumbled sleepily, “before you, my few _experiments_ were always exclusively tops, and they got all weird about bottoming. I like that you're...” he paused, his brow furrowing before he said, “ _analdextrous._ ”

Sirius snorted loudly, clapping a hand over his mouth to stop himself from spraying Harry with spit, while the younger man grinned up at him widely.

“I cannot _believe_ that you just said that,” Sirius said as he howled with laughter, “Gods, I _dare_ you to use that word in front of Moony. I want to see just how red he gets...”

“Oh my God,” Harry cackled, “he would _never_ speak to us again...” he grinned wickedly, “consider it done.”

Still giggling, they shimmied under the covers and curled up together, both still radiating sleepy contentment as they got comfortable. Harry let out a small sigh and curled into his arms, the younger man's head resting lightly against Sirius's bicep as he smiled up at the older man with warm adoration.

“This was the longest day I've ever had,” Sirius said softly as he kissed Harry's forehead, just above his scar. “I liked how it ended, though.”

“Even better,” Harry added in a similar tone, “now we know that we can show up at the next Weasley gathering _together_ -together, and neither of us will be harassed for it.”

“I hope the next one is soon,” Sirius murmured as he rested a knuckle under Harry's chin, tilting his head up to kiss him lightly. “I can't _wait_ to show you off.”

 

-Fin

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If the _Fingers on lips_ line looks familiar, it's because I stole it from the Tenth Doctor ;P


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